Before August

Before August

The age of majority comes a ringin’
Messages; reminders that I’m not always
Always a kid dreaming, reeling the fantasies
I conjured at night in a safe haven

in my head.
There’s a room full of sparkles
and hope and fear, evolving.
They run and jump turning, around the
seemingly vast space of possibilities
cramped

Every night.
I watched them live and die and be
Born in a time where a journey like no other
Dawns before my very eyes.
And it’s painful to watch all the sparkles change.

They once have had wings
And eyes
And love
And poetry
And minds that uses its faculties
As creative and as chimerical as possible.
“Where have they gone?” I asked.
I questioned myself in a dream.

Now it’s the eve of July 31st.
I woke up this morning hearing a quiet response.
“They did exactly what they had to do,” it said.
“With or without your knowing,” it whispered.

“They grew up.”
I asked, “Like I did?”
“Not just yet.”
I’m left not feeling my face,
Not having a clue what to do next.
Until it said,

“They’re waiting for you.”

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